Of Aces and Queens
by RhubarbCrumble
Summary: Guess who's back more than a year after this started? That's right I'm finally continuing this story about Gambit and Rogue. It's set in the animated universe (the 90's one). Set towards the end of series two. My favourite marvel couple's relationship was never really touched on in the show so lets re-address the balance! Reviews appreciated.
1. Chapter 1 Gloves

**Hi It's Rhubarb. Umm I've posted here cause the actual animated series' (1990's one) fandom is so small and I want more than say 3 people to read this. Anyhoo! This is set towards the end of series two, note that the Professor is absent, as he is still in the savage lands and the events of 'The Reunion' part one and two have NOT happened. I'm trying to do the accents but this is also my first fanfic so don't hate me since the Southern's hard enough and Cajun is nigh on impossible to get a feel for. Enjoy!**

**Thanks to Whisperwill for giving me some gramatical pointers and giving me confidence in my portrayal of characters.**

Chapter 1

Gloves

_Sometimes it seemed they were just friends, no, most of the time it was entirely that way. They got along well; no one really ever worked out why. Of course they had been through a lot together, more than a lot. In fact they were always together, even on days off, so when anyone looked for the most obvious friendship in the group it was either the father-daughter thing Wolverine had with Jubilee or else the banter and antics of Rogue and Gambit._

Storm fluttered past gracefully, her angelic white uniform moving gently in the wind that she partially responsible for. She smiled brightly to her friend and waved.

"Are you coming with us Rogue?" she shouted.

Rogue was sitting on the roof of the school, "Not today Storm. I've got stuff to do," she yelled back. It had been a lie. Rogue just needed some time to herself.

"See you soon!" she said in her goddess-like weather-controlling voice. "Summer wind, push me onward!" With that, a gust of warm air sent Storm after the cars travelling along the road. Logan's Jeep was leading them; he seemed to be racing Scott and Jean in their new convertible.

"Everything's a competition ain't it?" Rogue sighed to herself. The X-men had adopted a new way of dealing with stress. Instead of taking potentially risky vacations they would have days out every so often. The Professor said it helped with the group's motivation, although it was clear to Rouge he enjoyed doing regular human things as much as the rest of them.

Realising she would have some time alone, Rogue pulled her gloves off. It was a wonder her hands hadn't rotted away in the heat under them. She threw hands up in the air and dived down to her open window. She rolled over and glided in with ease. Dramatically she dumped the gloves on her bed and wandered downstairs to the kitchen.

"I thought it was just Gambit, _chere,_" said an awfully familiar voice, from behind the island counter.

Rogue reluctantly slipped her hands into her jacket pockets. She decided there would be no accidental energy drainage on this otherwise fine day.

"And I thought it was just me, sugah," she said stepping around the silver block. "What'ya doing?"

Gambit looked up from the cupboard. "Gambit's searching for the good plates."

"Why would ya do that when we got the old ones in the dishwasher?" Rogue asked.

"Because it's a special occasion, _chere_." He looked up, a thoughtful glaze over the strange eyes. Rogue suddenly realised what he meant.

She smacked herself in the face, "Well I'll be danged. I forgot my own birthday!"

"But I didn't."

"Yeah 'bout that. How come none of the others remembered but you did?" It was rare for Remy to care so much or at least to show he did.

The strange eyes flickered downward and he bit his lower lip as if he, the most deceptive person ever, was embarrassed, "I remembered you said you wanted a celebration this year, _chere_. So when Gambit's calendar tells him the date, he makes some preparations."

Rogue smiled, "That's very sweet of you Gambit. Ah guess you expected me to be out today."

"No it's fine, I got you a present." He reached into one of the pockets in his ever-present trench coat. Rogue often wondered if he had several thousand playing cards lining it. He brought out a soft package wrapped in white and green striped tissue paper.

Ever so carefully Rogue reached forward and took it. She paid close attention to Gambit's uncovered fingers. She pulled off the tissue paper and gasped. Sitting in her hands were brand new yellow gloves. Unlike the other ones which were plastic and uncomfortable, these were a very fine silk with elastic along the wrist. Stitched on the sides were tiny red X buttons and on the edges were lovely lace details.

"Why thank you, but how in the world did you know?" she managed finally, smiling again and noticing that she was blushing ever so slightly by the faint warmth at her cheeks.

Gambit stood up, "I have my ways," he said smugly. He turned for the fridge while Rogue was left both puzzled and grateful.

He opened the fridge and brought out a large green bottle. "The Professor be saving dis for de Summers' anniversary but I'm sure he won't mind one bottle." It was very nice looking champagne.

So Rogue found herself sitting with a glass of champagne at the dining room table with Gambit at her side. He'd poured, claiming the birthday girl shouldn't have too. She noticed for the first time that although the trench coat was there Remy wasn't in his usual uniform. He actually looked normal without the black thing he usually wore to cover much of his face. Gambit wasn't one for doing normal.

"Thanks for going to all the trouble for lil' old me." Hiccupped Rogue after her third glass. They'd spent so long talking that she hardly noticed her glass empty and fill up occasionally. She realised no one really had time to just talk anymore. There was always another threat, always a villain to defeat, never more than a few days of quiet, but that's life. Or at least it was the life of the x-men. Nevertheless here they were talking about normal stuff like normal human beings.

Gambit shook his head, the eyes glittered strangely, as the sclera flashed red to match the pupils before fading back to black. "No problem, _chere_. You are my friend. De others don't trust Gambit. Dey think I never changed." Someone else had drunk a little too much. He rarely if ever mentioned what people thought of him.

"I'm sure they do, sugah. Don't you ever think that we don't need you, okay?" She took his hand in her gloved one.

He smiled, "Thanks Rogue." She knew that when he called her by name he was definitely being sincere. The _chere_ code was difficult to decipher.

The flash of the eyes again, noticed Rogue. It had to mean something. They usually only did that when he was angry, those eyes, strange as they were, were like a window into the secret thoughts of the Cajun. Not many people knew how to read what they saw though.

"Remember when Bishop accused you of assassinating Senator Kelly and we actually thought you would do it? Well there was a minute where Storm looked at me after claiming she knew you better than the rest of us. An' I bet your Ace of Spades you never thought 'bout why she did that."

"It did confuse me, _chere_. But there was a lot going on that day to think about it."

"Well Ah'll tell you why she did it. She knew that I trusted you more than the others, she knew more about how I felt than anybody. An' when that happened I sided with them. It hurt. Ah didn't want to betray you, but I did and it hurt. I've thought about it for so long and I'm glad I can finally say it. It's hard talking 'bout stuff even with your best friend."

He spoke softly, "You shouldn't worry, _mon amie_." A devious smile spread across his thin lips, "What did Storm know about how you felt?"

"It's none of your damn business!" demanded Rogue. She felt her cheeks burn red in a blush again.

"C'mon, Rogue, you can tell Gambit." His eyebrows were raised a little at her sudden change in mood.

She shook her head, causing white and brunette curls to fall about her face. "It don't matter. Ah can't tell ya, not today and not any other day," she pleaded, as she stood up.

Confused Remy placed his hand on her shoulder as she took a step away, "You don't have to go away, _cher_, just because I hit a raw nerve."

"I do now get your hand offa' me."

"But why?" he asked nervously, Rogue wasn't one for being angry but when she was it was quite spectacular.

"Because back then," she said, water glazing her eyes, "maybe even after that," the first tear slid slowly down her flushed face, "I loved you."

With that she lifted from the ground and would have flown away, had he not snatched his hand away at that moment. It wasn't as if he was disgusted, more surprised. Rouge turned back to see him sitting, his eyes fixated on hers.

"Rogue?"

"What?" She cried, moving slowly further away.

He breathed in; his whole body seemed to tremble. "Maybe I loved you too," he said simply.

Rouge didn't look surprised, she only nodded, "And that's what made it so difficult."

"Why?"

She almost screamed the next part, "Because I don't wanta' hurt you Remy! We could never touch, never kiss, what type of life is that?"

"I wouldn't bother me. It wouldn't matter, Rogue," he said, standing up too.

"Oh but it would. I know what men are like. It would hurt me too." She sped away, narrowly avoiding a crash into the door with a graceful bend.

Remy was left staring after her. He didn't know what to do. He could follow her, it might upset her more, and maybe staying put would have the same outcome. "But dere is a way, my _Cherie._" He muttered to himself. He pulled out a Queen of Diamonds from his pocket. "Dere is always a way." The queen's face smiled back at him; on this card he had scrawled a pair of gloves in black marker. He never threw this one, or his favourite the Queen of Hearts away.


	2. Chapter 2  Not my day

**_Hi again readers. It's been a whole week already, time does fly, but I sort of like this weekly writing pace. It means I can work on this little by little over seven days which is just enough time for a decent chapter. Anyway here's the poem I scribbled in the back of my English jotter. It's sort of where I got the title's name from and it very nearly fits the ideas I'm trying to convey in this story. You can skip it if you want obviously. Poetry isn't a particular strong point in my creative artillery. _**

_Of Aces and Queens!_

_Cried the gambling man,_

_In grunts and in screams,_

_But faster he ran._

_He scattered his money where ever he went,_

_Leaving a trail,_

_-A strong sort of scent._

_For Aces and Queens,_

_Gave the dealer's fair hand,_

_And thrust them upon,_

_The travelling band_

_The piper, he played with all of his might._

_But what use are games?_

_When there's no sound,_

_Or no sight_

_My Aces and Queens,_

_Croaked an artist a-painting,_

_Although you could choose,_

_With much contemplating._

_Hearts, and diamonds, pretty they are,_

_You could bet anything,_

_Worth pennies or stars._

_Aces and Queens, the truth be told,_

_Black and red figures, neither young nor old,_

_Each number, it sparkles, when you turn away,_

_Each face smiles strangely all through the day._

_Never forget the games you once knew,_

_You'll never know what's wrong or what's true._

Chapter 2 Not my day

"What's eating at Gumbo?" murmured Wolverine as Gambit sulked past. He'd lost all of his spirits the day everyone else was enjoying the sun. For two days he'd been unresponsive and gloomy. As much as he found the Cajun annoying, he couldn't help but worry... just a little bit.

"He won't talk to anyone," piped in Jubilee. She was tinkering with a games console, attempting to beat some exceptional high score.

The irritating sound of pressing buttons became more frequent as she approached the boss level. Then just as she overtook the almighty high score, sparks started flying round the room. Wolverine sighed to Storm, who watched the event, entirely aware of the inevitable.

_Bang!_

Logan turned to see the girl, immersed in flakes of metal. "That's the third time this month, kid."

"Do you know how expensive this is getting?" she muttered, almost to herself. She dusted down her bright yellow jacket. Jubilee was aware that she wasn't gaining any control of her powers. It was entirely possible they were becoming stronger and more unstable by the day.

"You'll learn eventually, child," said Storm. She stood up and wrapped her arm round the distraught teenager. "We shall have to tidy this up."

Storm lead her out of the room to fetch a bag to put the remains in. Wolverine returned his attention to the television. It displayed yet more images of anti-mutant hysteria.

"When are they gunna learn?" he muttered.

The door opened again. Rogue thundered in. Her movements were heavy and deliberate, yet at the same time she seemed to be as skittish and as unpredictable as a rabbit attempting to avoid a fox. She twirled a curl of hair around a finger as she glanced around the room. Even the way she stepped around the sofa, was oddly out of character.

"Evenin'," she said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.

Several moments later, the door swung open, yet again. "Wolverine, did you eat de last of the de chicken, _mon amie_?" At last the Cajun had spoken. He stood in the doorway with one of those plastic tubs for leftovers under his arm.

"Yeah, I did," said Logan. He caught a strange expression on the Cajun's face as he caught sight of Rogue. She turned her head away as if to avoid looking at him. It was painstakingly obvious something had happened while the rest of them were at the beach. Wolverine could almost smell it.

He didn't have time to dwell on it as Jubilee skidded into the room.

"Cyclops wants you guys in the war room!"

Rogue sat on the opposite side of the round table to Remy. He kept throwing her glances, she just blanked him. To her it was as if he was playing an intricate game of poker, also trying to confuse his opponent, so far it seemed to be working. There was little he could say to help matters, and yet the same time he was desperate for her attention. She tried to keep a calm composure, but became so wrapped up in the effort that she heard very little of the mission briefing.

"... So Beast here," their rigid leader gestured to Hank, "accidentally intercepted a radio transmission which revealed that today, at the Friends of Humanity summit, there are going to be new Sentinels which are out with government control. I'm sending some of you down there to keep an eye on things."

"The summit's taking place in this building here," said Beast, he flicked a switch, prompting the largest screen in the war room to display a picture. "The Sentinels however will be outside, apparently demonstrating how safe they are for the general public."

"Storm and Rogue can keep watch from above. I need Gambit and Wolverine to patrol on the ground."

"Cyclops, let me go, please!" whined Jubilee.

"No. Sentinels can turn things pretty ugly, pretty quickly, kid," said Wolverine with a smile, "We wouldn't want you getting hurt now."

"I'm not a kid anymore. Just let me do things!"

"Wolverine's right. You might be able to help me here instead," said Jean. Her comforting tone and probably a few mental messages shut Jubilee up.

Rogue headed out with Storm. "Are we flying apart all the way?" she asked, fearful she would be trapped in a plane with Gambit. It was strange how awkward things could become in such a short space of time.

"I believe so. We shall have to hurry," she responded. By now they had reached the front door. "Evening air, aid our journey!" she demanded, again with the dramatic voice.

Warm clammy air settled around them as they took off. It helped keep them suspended, with relative lack of effort. This meant they could focus on flying, and flying fast. Storm was better suited to the sky than her younger companion. She rose and fell in perfect harmony with the breeze, as she glided just beneath the clouds in an unworldly silence. Rouge didn't have the advantage of being in touch with the weather. She had to cut through the currents of air and constantly change direction. Not that it mattered to her. The air was the only place where she felt free from the restraints of the wretched mutation. A place where she could be entirely alone, yet at the same time watch the world as vividly, as if she herself was part of it.

"Look Storm, down there!" she yelled, waving an arm in the general downward direction of the FoH crowds.

They landed on the roof of a building a few blocks away. The basic plan was to swoop down at the first hint of trouble.

"Wolverine, do you read me?" asked storm, pressing one of the X's on her uniform.

"I hear you loud and clear. We're heading towards the centre, so keep an eye on 'em Sentinels." The transmitter obviously didn't work quite so well when surrounded by concrete buildings. His voice was hardly audible over jittery interference.

On the ground, the anti-mutant demonstration was in full swing. Wolverine couldn't turn his head without seeing another uncreative banner. There had once been a time when the idiots had put a little bit of thought into the derogatory slogans. Now, they were so lifeless, that even the chants seemed too blunt in hatred to mean anything. Despite this, today had the biggest turnout of all FoH events.

"Where de Sentinels?" sneered the Cajun. The younger man seemed to be walking on hot cinders, with such a look of determination. Of course, he had been in a few scraps with the giant robot things, one of which involved surrendering his pride. It had been Logan who shoved him out of a mine full of them, returning to fight alone. Gambit found it less like 'saving his life' and more like 'insulting his ability'.

Logan heard the clangs of metal long before he saw the monstrous things. "To your left, Bub."

The tin cans had had a makeover. The awkward red and purple colours had been replaced with a shiny chrome effect. The faces seemed more human, despite being no longer being painted as such, as if part of the bid to change public opinion. They moved more organically, additional joints made them walk less stiffly, and more like something one could relate to. The false eyes were still piercing red lasers.

"I'm going in for a closer look, wait here," ordered Wolverine, fully aware the Cajun wouldn't let him face the machines alone again.

"Fine," Gambit stated coldly.

The answer surprised Logan. He'd expected resistance, complaining, even sarcasm but nothing of the sort erupted from his teammate's usually sharp mouth. Shrugging inwardly, the clawed man decided now was as good a time as any other to ask about Saturday, while he'd played volleyball on the baking sand.

"What happened then?" he asked. Perhaps not specifically enough, as an eyebrow above a bizarre eye lifted in confusion. With a sigh he changed it to, "What happened on Saturday?"

Retaining the same coldness, Gambit replied, "What makes you think anything happened?"

"I weren't born yesterday, Cajun. You've been acting frankly weird since we got back, you and that 'friend' of yours," growled Logan, bearing ever so slightly, a bit of the sharp canines.

"It's none of your business, no?" he did his customary little high note at the end of the sentence.

The claws glided out of his knuckles at lightning speed, "I'm just trying to show some interest! I don't even like yer dirty little face all that much."

"Umm Wolverine," Remy stuttered as if Logan had put him in his place, "I'd put the claws away."

"Wait, what, why?" It was too late.

"Mutant detected!" sounded the computer generated voice of a Sentinel. It was standing over them in the most menacing manner.

"Little help here, Storm!" groaned Wolverine, slamming the button on his communicator.

Storm and Rogue were on the scene in a matter of seconds. "Autumn mist, blind those fools!" commanded Storm. A thick mist drifted into the street. FoH demonstrators started running and screaming.

Despite rendering any humans useless in panic the mist didn't have the desired effect on the Sentinels. "Four mutants are in the vicinity," called the eerie inhuman voices in unison. There were five metal monstrosities, all of which had switched to attack programming.

Gambit and Wolverine didn't stand a chance. The Sentinel brought a heavy fist upon them. Fortunately they'd been able to leap out of the way but it caught Wolverine in its other hand. He slashed at the fingers; much to his annoyance they had a very thin layer of something resembling adamantium, making his task all the more difficult.

Remy started to throw cards at the face. One after another exploded, blackening the chrome expression, but having little effect on the crushing pressure it was applying to Logan's chest.

Rogue responded to the Sentinel far more efficiently. She rushed to the welded bar holding the head securely upon the neck. The preoccupied robot didn't have time to react as she kicked its head neatly of its shoulders. She'd used such a force in the kick that the cables within had been cut evenly. She couldn't help but smile at herself for that. However her moment of glory was interrupted by the decapitated Sentinel starting to fall.

She dived down from the shoulders, reached the hand, forced the fingers open and rescued Wolverine before the metal chest had even reached the ground.

"Are you alright?" she asked setting him down as gently as possible.

He doubled over, his arms wrapped tightly over his chest. "I got a couple o' broken ribs, give me a minute." His face became contorted. Rogue had occasionally questioned how deliberate the rapid healing process was, or how much, if any, control he had over it.

The Cajun stood like a spare part. He disliked how Rogue had just been the hero while his efforts had been useless. Then he saw Storm, who was still distorting the visibility, get into some trouble.

Storm normally had to shut off the rest of her thoughts when she controlled the weather over larger areas. This is why the Sentinel had surprised her. It had lifted off and snatched her from the air before throwing her against the concrete pavement.

Gambit ran into the situation, formulating a plan as he went. This time he took a leaf out of Rogue's book and aimed for neck. The card lodged itself under the Sentinel's chin before exploding. To his utter dismay it had as little effect as Jubilee's earlier fireworks.

"Dis is not Gambit's day," he muttered.

"It ain't, is it sugah?" mocked Rogue who glided just above his head. "You can go get Storm!" She repeated the same soccer kick decapitation as he grabbed Storm's unconscious form. "This is easy!" she beamed, whilst flying from the metal torso.

Wolverine caught up with them. "Save some glory for us girl!" he yelled, "Throw me at that one and watch how it's done."

"Sure thing!" she grabbed him, carried him a little then threw him squarely at one of the remaining Sentinel's heads. He got all six claws into forehead. With a twist of his wrists the glowing eyes flickered off.

The second last one leaned over Storm and Gambit as if to shoot them with its lasers. Annoyingly for proud Remy, Storm, who was almost unconscious, sent a lightning bold into one of the eyes. The Sentinel upper body snapped back and it keeled over into a building. Only one was left.

Unfortunately before he'd even got a card out, Rogue landed, holding a giant metal head above her own like a trophy. It really wasn't his day.

"Gambit, you're bleeding!" she exclaimed, tossing the head aside. A man stood on the other side of the street, holding a gun. It was probably just some punk from the Friends of Humanity, exploiting America's acceptance of firearms.

He dashed out of sight. The mist was no longer present; the only cover was the grey dust from their recent battle.

"Aargghh ," Gambit grumbled as the pain set in. He'd just taken a damn bullet through his chest, and yet he still stood. Blood started to pour from the open wound, seeping through the red fabric of his shirt. This _really_ wasn't his day

"I'll take Storm, Rogue. You get him to the mansion and you get him there quickly," said Wolverine.

Rogue didn't have to be told twice. As awkward as having to carry him was she didn't want him dead.

As soon as they were out of earshot the Cajun, despite his injury, decided to speak.

"This is convenient, _non_?" he smiled.

"Don't think that Ah'm enjoying this," she replied icily, "Will ya just faint already?"

"I don't think so,_ chere_." Despite his words his eyes did close before she spoke again.

"Ah'm sorry Remy," she said soothingly to his sleeping form. "You don't understand what it's like. Ah never wanted to hurt you. Hell, I couldn't hurt you on purpose even if Ah tried. An' look at me now, talking to ya like it's actually gonna change anything. Ah'm a coward Remy, I couldn't face ya, after what we said. An' I'd rather die a thousand deaths than lose ya now."

"You realise that Gambit's still awake, _chere_." A mischievous twist settled at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm gonna beat you to a pulp, swamp rat!" She couldn't hide the relief that he was still okay.

"I'm sure Beast will accept it was the Sentinel's doing, no?" he smirked.

She would have slapped him had her arms not been under his body, preventing him from falling. She had chosen to carry him perpendicular to her own body; one arm tucked under his knees the other clutching at his back. It was a very maternal, protective sort of hold, like the way a mother might carry an overgrown child. Actually that was essentially what Gambit was

At long last they reached the mansion. Beast was waiting at the infirmary.

"Well this is quite a predicament," Hank stated the obvious.

"Can ya just get him patched up before he bleeds out, Beast?" said an irritated Rogue as she placed him down on one of the beds.

"It appears you have a punctured lung, I shall have to stop the bleed," he reached for a needle, "This anaesthetic shall send you straight to sleep."

Rogue hadn't even noticed she was holding his hand until he winced at the needle approaching his skin. No one 'likes' needles other than drug addicts, but he had a particular distaste for them, for reasons he couldn't quite understand. He gripped her thin fingers through her glove, noticing that she was wearing the ones he had given her. They were so fine that he might as well have had her skin against his, never before had they been so close to touching without any side effects.

"Night, _chere_," he said after the dose was administered.

"Goodnight, Gambit," she replied as his devilish eyes closed. She noticed that his gaze never left her until the very last moment.


	3. Chapter 3 Weakness

**Hey dere readers! I was bored on Sunday so I wrote a big chunk of this chapter. I thought it might turn out longer but I was wrong. There isn't much else I could do with this one.**

**This chapter contains a variation in text boldness, this basically indicates where a flashback of sorts is taking place, don't take it to heart if it bugs you.**

**Anyway enjoy it!**

Chapter 3 Weakness

An old woman moved silently through the remains of five Sentinels in a normally busy public street. Two were otherwise intact, bar damage to internal circuitry but the rest were broken beyond repair. Three mechanical faces were scattered randomly around the site.

The woman smiled, her grey eyes flickered to yellow, her skin faded to blue, even the cardigan and loose trouser suit she wore warped into a provocative white dress. Even for a shape-shifter her standard form was beyond ageless, beyond the normal bounds of youthfulness. She turned to observe each and every detail of the X-men's triumph over pitiful machines.

Mystique grinned. "You have become strong, my daughter," she said proudly into the night air.

One of the pompous clowns she used a henchman approached. Pyro was the least imbecilic of them, which wasn't saying much considering the rest.

"Wait 'till you see this," he cooed, the British man lacked any form of charm or class.

"I don't much like waiting, you fool."

He handed her an envelope, "Your little girl's got a bit of a weakness there, ma'am."

Inside the envelope was a tiny electrical device. It was an almost two-dimensional square with a single black circle on it.

"Voice operated," confirmed Pyro.

"You may leave," said Mystique, with the essence of a queen.

Pyro stalked away as fast as he had appeared.

Mystique inhaled slowly as she held the device to her lips, "Find Rogue" she said with as little personality as possible. These silly voice recognition things expected everyone to sound the same.

"Sixteen extracts feature voice of 'Rogue'" echoed the buzzing of the machine. These were recordings from where the X-men resided. They were constantly being listened in on, everywhere but the infamous war room.

On the day the microphones had been installed at Xavier's mansion she'd disguised herself as an electrician, claiming the mansion was unsafe and set about putting one in every room, every area of the gardens and every vehicle. Thankfully, years of training had rendered her psyche impenetrable by the likes of Jean Grey, meaning her true identity was not revealed. The recording devices were never removed but several had been damaged by the youngster, Jubilation Lee's unreliable powers.

The envelope also contained photographs. All of them had Rogue as either the subject or being caught in the background. In every single one she was by the side of one of her teammates. They seemed happy to be so close to one another. Mystique felled a prick of envy burn through her.

"Remy LeBeau," she murmured, running a finger over the face next to her foster daughter's, "I never thought anyone could make her smile like that."

The recordings were apparently dialogues between Rogue and this LeBeau. They had been pulled out of the hundreds of hours of irrelevant speech and put together by a non-mutant Mystique had threatened.

"Play extract," she said, a little anxious as to what she might hear.

"Now playing extract one, entitled, 'Playing cards,'" said the annoying voice of the playback device.

"**How about we make dis game more interesting, **_**chere**_**?" said the one they called Gambit with his thick Cajun accent.**

"**What would you suggest, Sugah?" she replied in a dreamy, careless tone.**

"**How 'bout the winner gets a kiss from the loser?"**

"**Are you out of your damn mind?" upon first hearing, Mystique had thought she was genuinely angry.**

"**You'd better win then, **_**chere**_**."**

**Rogue was too clever for that, "But that means you'd have to kiss me."**

"**Then the damage would be self inflicted and your conscience would be clear, no?"**

"**Quit foolin' around Cajun or I might just accept that offer."**

"**Then all my dreams would come true. Well, not **_**all**_** of them." The hint was too strong for even the most innocent of minds to ignore.**

"**Sometimes I wish you were just a bit less charming, Remy."**

"**Oh and why is that?"**

"**Cause then I could give you a damn good slap across the face and not feel bad 'bout it."**

"**Is that you surrendering already? Gambit's disappointed."**

"**I ain't neva gonna give in to a swamp rat like you. Now are we gonna play?"**

"**Sure thing, **_**Cherie**_**,"**

"**You don't know how much I wanna touch you right...now..." Rogue stuttered at the end realising exactly how he would interpret that sentence.**

"**The feeling is mutual," his voice was soft, and sickly sweet.**

"**Gambit stop teasing her, and Rogue you stop encouraging him," the third voice was dull and righteous and came from their leader, known as Cyclops.**

"_**Mon amie,**_** 'tis only harmless."**

"**Nevertheless, it could end up messy. I'm deeply considering separating you two."**

"**Cyke, consider getting your nose outa' other people's business, and while you're at it you should consider pulling your head out from your own backside. We ain't doin' no harm." It was Rogue's sharp wit that got him to shut up.**

"**So where were we,**_** cher**_**?" snickered LeBeau. **

"**Damn, whose turn to play is it anyway?"**

"**I tink it's mine."**

"**Oh no, it ain't, Cajun. You're after ma glory."**

"**Gambit's after a lot more than that."**

"**You're unbelievable!"**

The extract finished with laughter. The kind that's genuine and pure. This hurt Mystique, she'd been denied such companionship for so many years that the very sound of it pierced at her eardrums.

After listening to a few more flirtatious recordings, Mystique pondered her options. She could quite easily use this to her advantage. She could hold him and have Rogue come to bargain for his release but it was too obvious. Besides, it was entirely possible that the X-men could carry out a rescue mission even with all of her Brotherhood against them.

No, there had to be a more fool-proof way of winning back her daughter. She glanced at a particular photograph. LeBeau had his arm around Rogue's shoulder. One of her hands was bare so she held her arm out to the side, as far from him as possible. Despite the words, Mystique knew that they could never touch. Perhaps this was her weakness.

In the long months she'd trained Rogue, the very concept of weakness was alien at best. The girl had the power of powers, the mutation that could overcome any obstacle, bar one... touch. Every human being craves it, needs it, and wants it, but Rogue, poor unfortunate Rogue could never experience even the most innocent touch after her powers emerged. No matter much she desired otherwise, her skin was a weapon, nothing more, nothing less.

This Gambit, this friend of hers could hold the key. With a push in the right direction he could make her snap, make her do anything for touch. Their friendship was strong, weeks of recording and photography had shown that, but was it really only friendship in Rogue's inexperienced heart? Did the change in her tone of voice not show more than trust? Was the smile in the photograph really put on for the sake of the picture? Mystique knew the answers, she knew her daughter too well.

"I thought I told you never to show weakness," she said to the photo as she faded back into the form of an elderly woman.


	4. Chapter 4 Sleep

_**Bonjour mon**_** readers! It's a brand new chapter. There's some fluff in this one admittedly and one use of bad language, you have been warned. As always I own nothing!**

Chapter 4 Sleep

In the late evening of the day after the sentinel attack, Jean crept into the infirmary. It was an eerie, empty place when the only light source was the clinical white wall lamps. Beast had gone to bed, after such a difficult piece of surgery had exhausted him. Rogue was still present.

The young woman was sitting on one of the chairs next to Gambit's bed. Her skin was pale, her face was tired and strained, and her usually perfect curls of hair were matted and messy.

"Rogue?" Jean called.

"Hey Jean," she sighed, sleepily.

"How is he?" she asked, sitting on the chair next to her.

Even Rogue's normally sharp eyes were dull, and surrounded by irritated, red skin. She'd been fighting the urge to fall asleep, or else had been crying. "Beast says he's taking longer than normal to come around," she sounded terrified.

"He's in good hands, you know,"

"Ah know Jean, but Ah'm still concerned," she glanced at his sleeping form, a glimmer of hope, across her expectant face when he stirred. He failed to wake up.

Sometimes Jean received psychic signals from those she was close to that she didn't intentionally pick up. She felt a prick of emotion from Rogue. They were painfully strong feelings but mixed in their nature. Jean paused from a moment, trying to decipher what it meant, but she didn't like invading the others' privacy.

"I see that you care about him, but shouldn't you be going to bed? You're exhausted,"

"Ah can't Jean, Ah can't leave 'im to wake up by 'imself, all alone."

Jean changed her tone of voice to be a little more persuasive, "I know you're his friend, but Rogue, you're making yourself ill."

"Okay, Ah'll leave in a bit. G'night Jeannie," she didn't sound very convincing.

"Night, Rogue," Jean got up to leave but not before getting another look at her friend. Rogue's gloved fingers traced Remy's face tenderly. Jean suddenly realised what she was feeling. She left the room, contemplating whether or not to stay anything.

Rogue didn't leave the infirmary that night. After about an hour of sitting, waiting and hoping for him to wake up, she also entered the realm of the unconscious. She slept lightly so the dreams came through more vividly than usual.

She'd grown used to the constant reminders from all the people she'd ever touched. Carol Danvers was locked up, hopefully forever in some forgotten kingdom of her mind, but there were others. Even those who she'd only taken a little energy from had left a trace. Sometimes the dreams were only repeats of when she stole from the unfortunate people, when she took away part of them. She was in some senses of the word more of a thief than Remy.

She woke up. There was a change in the room she couldn't lay her finger on until she glanced to where Remy had been sleeping. He was gone. Worry swept over her.

"Gambit?" she whispered, standing up.

A cold breeze, gave her a clue as to his location. She glided out onto the balcony through the open glass door. He was there. Relief, then annoyance, then reluctant acceptance bombarded her in a matter of seconds.

"What ya'll doin' making me worry like that?" she cried into the night air.

He turned round, looking considerably better rested, than she probably did, "_Désolé__ cher_."

She put a hand to his face and kissed the back of her glove.

"I hate you!" she whined, but then she hugged him, sinking into the warmth he offered.

"I still don't understand dis woman," he laughed.

"How are ya, sugah?" she asked, her eye darted to his bandaged chest and wrist.

"Gambit's alive. We've got that to be grateful for," he sighed.

"You're wrist sorta happened when Beast gave you more anaesthetic. You kept fighting in yah sleep and charging the scalpel. The things kept exploding in his hands. It was quite funny seeing him get all worked up for once."

They stood in silence for a bit, both of them under his trench coat which had been hanging up by his bed. The night air was cool and it was clear winter was on its way. Rogue felt safe so close to him, with his hand draped over her shoulder. She knew it was dangerous, she knew she ought to push him away, break apart, but she couldn't. Her heart hammered against her chest, her lungs tightened, and her stomach churned unnaturally. It was as if she was in the grip of a disease but Rogue knew it was something else, something more powerful.

"Isn't this enough?" he murmured, nerves present in his usually smooth tone of voice.

"What?" she asked.

He pulled her in tighter, "Isn't this enough, does _cher_ not see that skin don't matter?"

"Remy, don't do this, not to yourself an' not to me," she pleaded. She tensed up but didn't move away.

"Rogue, I have to." She knew he was right. She was unable to push him away anymore, he was all too aware that refusal was unlikely.

"Remy..." she sighed, gazing up at the devil's eyes. The pierced at her heart, how she wanted to lose herself in them.

He pulled her in even closer, "Are you not happy?"

"Ah think Ah am," she said. Honestly she knew happy wasn't quite the right word to describe how she felt. The contact, the closeness and the mutual understanding were bliss.

"Then dat's all dat should matter," he whispered.

"Ah don't want either of us gettin' hurt," she said quietly.

"Neither of us will, _cher_,"

Finally, she gave in, there was no use fighting the truth. "If you're sure Remy, if you're certain 'bout things."

He didn't need to answer, words were unnecessary. This embrace was a touch, not skin to skin, but a touch nonetheless. Maybe that's all a touch needed to be, it didn't need any real physical connection, it only needed to affect the heart, the soul or the mind in a way a no other contact could. In the silence of the balcony, they stood, warmed by the other, breathing, thinking.

After a while Rogue yawned, she hadn't recovered from the lack of rest.

"You should get to sleep, _chere_," he sighed.

"Ah don't want to leave you though," she murmured.

"Just take a bed in the infirmary then," he suggested as if it was obvious.

She nodded sleepily. Inside she shoved the bed next to Gambit's closer, but not so close as to risk unintentional contact.

He tucked her in, in a most gentle way, making the sterile white blankets hug tight to her body.

"How are you not collapsing from not eating or drinking for so long?" she asked, sinking her head into the pillow.

"One thing we know, _cher_, Gambit's got plenty of energy," he smiled. Carefully, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. Thick white and brown hair kept them separate.

"Ah love you too, Remy," she teased, with a wide smile across her face.

"Sweet dreams, Rogue," he whispered.

And for once, she was entirely certain that her dreams would be.

In the early morning, Beast entered his infirmary to check on his most recent patient. However he was surprised to see Rogue occupying one of the beds and a little more surprised to see her hand interlaced with Gambit's, hanging in the space between them.

The blue doctor did smile at the scene; it was rather touching to see that Rogue had become close to anyone in particular, considering that for so many years she had kept a wall up around heart. Silently he left the infirmary and hoped for their sakes that they woke up before someone more curious entered.

His hopes were not answered

"Psst, Beast have you seen this?" mouthed Jubilee, with a devious grin.

"Yes, Jubilee, it is rather a sweet thing to see," Hank fought the urge to spontaneously quote Shakespeare and instead urged Jubilee to forget it, "Perhaps we should give them a little time?"

"Beast, Wolverine said he'd be here in a few minutes. If you've seen this, I've seen this and he sees this then there isn't much point keeping quiet for three spare people. We are a family after all."

"I see your point, but surely as a family we should respect their privacy," he pleaded

"Not on my watch, big fella," said a gruff voice from behind. Wolverine had been standing, listening to every word for quite some time. "I knew the Cajun liked her and she had a soft spot for him but really? They're both so stubborn I thought nothing would happen."

"Wolverine, please don't do anything rash. Maybe this is all a misunderstanding," Beast tried to use the strategy of placing doubt to his advantage.

"Alright I'll ask them then. Lovebirds wake up!"

Rouge stirred, "Wolverine, what are you doing, it's too early. Wait, where am I?" she glanced up to see Logan's grin which more or less matched that of Jubilee, and then to her outstretched arm, "Oh, I remember."

"You and the Cajun eh?" he smirked.

"It's none of your damn business," she snapped, snatching her hand back and sitting upright.

"Alright he can tell me. Ain't that right Gumbo?" he almost shouted the question.

"Wolverine?" said a surprised Gambit who also bolted upright.

"Hey, bub, would you mind explaining the holding hands to me?"

He coughed, and glared at Rouge for some sort of guidance, she couldn't offer any. Hesitantly, her replied, "_Mon amie, c'est_ long story..."

"Cut to the chase, I ain't got all day."

Rogue cut to the chase long before Remy even had time to form a sentence, "Like a said it's none of your damn business but if you must know, we'll tell you at breakfast ok?"

"I look forward to it, c'mon kiddo," he called to Jubilee. She dashed after him.

"He'd make a great villain," muttered Gambit after they had left, "he's _tres_ scary."

"Don't fret Remy, he was gonna find out eventually, they all were. We'll face them together," said Rogue soothingly, "I'm gonna go and shower and make myself presentable," she kissed him through her gloved hand and flew out of the room via the balcony.

"I'll be leaving you alone," stuttered Beast as he too left the infirmary.

"Nosy bastards," grumbled Gambit. He was finding the prospect of the breakfast table intimidating at best.


	5. Chapter 5 Breakfast

**Well here I am after more than a year of silence. I stumbled across my old fan fictions and thought, what the hell why not finish them? See at about that time I was writing this story I think I relied on fiction and the x-men particularly as a sort of crutch when I was going through a rough patch in my own life. So when that sorted it out I decided to put the things like this behind me, deeming them childish. But now I've returned. I wasn't a bad wee writer back in 2011, and this story is particularly cute. Here's a little chapter explaining what on earth happened at breakfast. So without further adieu here is the highly anticipated 5****th**** chapter! ~Rhubarb**

Chapter 5

Breakfast

Of course he was still in much pain, having been shot only a day earlier, but he was strong. The life they lead required every member of the X-men to be in peak physical condition at all times. Slowly and alone he made his way down into the kitchen. The chattering of the breakfast table confirmed his suspicions.

_Everyone_ knew. In all honesty when he had woken up Wolverine, Jubilee and Beast knew so it was only Cyclops, Jean and Storm who needed to find out. They turned when he entered the room. He felt like turning and leaving right then and there. Of course they were a close-knit unit, but Remy still felt he'd be judged and ridiculed by his teammates. Though the life here at the mansion was the best thing to ever happen to him he still hadn't completed settled as they had.

Bravely he shrugged those feelings off and sat down at the table. He hardly noticed Rogue sitting opposite him; she had her head down and wasn't talking to anyone. The stares when he sat near her were piercing, or at least he felt so.

Jubilee, innocently coughed.

"Ya know this is kinda rude of ya'll sitting staring at us," muttered Rogue, she lifted her head, a faint smile at her lips. After she spoke there was silence round the table. "I think it's about time y'all stopped speculating and heard what we had to say."

Gambit felt inclined to say something but wasn't sure exactly what. See he hadn't quite got into words exactly what he and Rogue were. They weren't quite a couple, not in the usual sense but they were more than just good friends now. Though they'd only discovered this late the night previously he felt strangely content in that knowledge. He wasn't sure exactly what the next steps would be and that's why he struggled with the concept of explaining to other people. He looked at her for some sort of answer and she nodded as if to say _a little help here_.

"Couldn't have put it better myself _chere_." He started, with a slightly false smile. The experience of pretty much being forced to explain himself was most unpleasant for a man who liked to keep his secrets. Slowly, thoughtfully mulling over each word he put his answer together, "The only thing I'm going to say is that Rogue and Gambit as you were already aware were close in friendship, and that is still de case but last night they decided that they were close in the matters of the heart also. I hope that is a story enough for you."

They both sighed with relief and he saw the Southern Belle he'd found himself so perfectly falling for grin. The smile was perhaps the gentlest of her shows of emotion. The woman was so passionate in everything she did. She never did anything by halves.

**Scott** looked a little disapproving, though it was hard to tell. The way his visor covered his eyes made it particularly difficult to decipher him. Perhaps he wasn't as emotionless and dull as the others seemed to make out, merely found it difficult to come across otherwise. He remained silent but the slightly pursed lips gave him away.

**Jean** smiled, and nodded in understanding. She now knew what she had felt when she brushed with Rogue's emotions. It made her content to know that they would no longer be quite as confused and messed up now they'd sorted things out.

**Ororo **was perhaps the most responsive of the team; she started to snigger when Gambit finished talking. "And are you telling me that none of you saw this coming? These two are quite frankly inseparable!" she laughed. Of all the women in the house Rogue was closest to Storm, their friendship was more like a family bond and she saw her as a sister.

Everyone else seemed to accept their explanation, mainly because they already knew.

People started to leave the kitchen to get on with their days. Remy and Rogue stood at the Island counter. "I'm happy ya'know," she said, taking his hand.

"And that makes me happy Rogue," and she noticed this time he dropped the _chere_ and referring to himself in the third person. It was his private way of showing he was being deathly serious.

Rogue let a single happy tear fall down her face, never did she think she'd feel content with her mutation since it manifested all those years ago. Now she accepted how difficult and strenuous things would be but she knew in her heart that she'd find a way for him. For her. _For them_.

"**It's so fluffy I'm gonna die!" It's alright guys I'm actually going to develop some adventure based plot now, follow the Mystique storyline and really develop this cushy little romance into more of a story with a bit more oomph. I need to re-watch the series as I've lost my feel for the characters but I'll get there! Thanks for reading, review if you have any feedback... though I know this isn't my best chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6 Inspiration

**Hello there readers! I know another chapter already. This one contains violence which might be a little scary for some readers. You've been warned. Also so happy I've got so many views after starting to write again. The support is tremendous and I'm really grateful for it.**

Chapter Six

Inspiration

She loved Rogue. She knew she did. Why else would she so long to have her back? She missed her when she left, and it was perhaps the strangest of emotions Raven could fathom. She'd never really cared for anyone in such a way and having the girl apart from her hurt. It was this feeling of being at loss she had to correct. Otherwise Mystique would never feel quite as powerful as she had before. She felt weak. Every time she thought of the girl being happy because of someone else's action envy boiled within her.

It was the early morning and the sun was only rising over the city. In the form of an old woman she stalked along the streets to the alley they'd arranged to meet. He was standing there, a smug grin on his face.

This was the man she'd hired to shoot the Cajun, a proud member of The Friends of Humanity and a police officer. He was dressed in his uniform, his working day was about to begin. Mystique was disgusted that she'd ever associate herself with such bigoted scum. She tossed him a small clear bag of money, mostly fifty dollar bills.

"Why thank you ma'am." He said cheerily. His podgy fingers dipped into the bag and an ecstatic grin came to his face.

The old woman shook her head, "The pleasure is all mines, and you did what I needed done."

"Well if you ever need more than a shot to wound you know where to find me. Grim things are mutants. If I had my way I'd have us shoot the lot of 'em." He took a step to leave the dark alley and he grimaced as his eyes adjusted to the harsh morning sunlight.

Raven's body started to tremble. She knew the man was bad, being a member of FoH and all but that was like a personal attack. Fury started to bubble within her.

Two hands with long strong fingers grabbed his shirt and pulled him back with such force that it couldn't have been the sweet old woman he'd done business with. His body was pulled further back, until he slammed against one of the walls. The impact on his head and neck made him bite through his lower lip. Involuntarily he yelped like a little dog. Blood started to seep down his chin.

"Where are you!?" he called out, still leaning fearfully against the wall. There was no answer, in the dark he saw little. The woman who had only moments ago given him money was gone.

A black shadow moved. A black shadow with glowing yellow eyes moved. It was no cat. His heart started to beat hard against his ribs. Fear swept through him and he froze to the spot.

There was a cackle, a hard, wicked sound. The female voice was not old, it was ageless and menacing. "You are the very reason that people like me exist. You are the scum of this Earth. But I'm going to prevent you from ever spreading your hatred and lies ever again."

The blue face with the red hair and the skull necklace was suddenly inches from his, she reminded him in that instance of an African tribal mask. The officer tried to scream but nothing escaped him. Then there was that twisted smile with the teeth that were just too unnaturally white and the curl of the lips that just made his every instinct scream. He in a place beyond danger.

"And you call us the monsters?" Suddenly he was no longer looking at a mutant but at himself, as if he was gazing into a mirror. "The only monster I can see is you!"

And she shot him with his own gun, in hands that would only leave his fingerprints. The body slid down the wall. There he sat against the wall, with a splatter of crimson decorating the grey bricks behind him. She lay the gun beside him and checked her hair in his badge, as if this was all perfectly normal. Returning to daylight she morphed back into the innocent old women she had been before.

She knew what had to be done. That encounter had inspired her. The thought hit her more abruptly than those rays of golden light.

Violence.

That was where she felt both of their hearts lay. LeBeau she knew had been brought upon among family feuds and crime. He was brought up around it. Though by researching as much as she could about him after hearing the recordings and seeing the photographs she had found him to be quite the noble character now. Somewhere deep within that mutant there had to be the remnants of violence. It fragmented like glass. The little shards could lay buried for years before a sudden jolt would cause a bleed.

Then there was Anna Marie. That was her name, little untouchable Anna. Raven had taken her in, at first out of pity and of awe at the potential of the girl's as yet unharnessed power. The girl had been put through so much after the powers manifested. Her trailer-trash father, as ignorant as they come had hurled abuse at and disowned her. Then there was Rogue's unfortunate time in the brotherhood. Though Miss Marple was silenced, Mystique had the suspicion others would have an adverse affect on the girls psyche. Every touch made her take in a part of someone else and not everyone left a positive mark.

Thus they were a doomed combination she thought. Both had burning passion, but that fire would create embers of anger and irritation, particularly with their lack of physical contact. Raven saw it as almost inevitable that as a couple they would turn on each other and rapture the X-men 'family', where as within the bounds friendship they had not. With only a little effort she would gain her daughter back.

Smirking, the little figure of an elderly female marched on.

The city was waking up.


End file.
